


What Owen Sees

by nemo_baker



Series: What They See [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Cute, Episode: s01e12 Captain Jack Harkness, Episode: s01e13 End of Days, Episode: s02e08 A Day in the Death, Episode: s02e12 Fragments, M/M, Past Character Death, Prompt Fic, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemo_baker/pseuds/nemo_baker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the prompt from <a href="http://jo02.livejournal.com/">jo02</a>: I have a fondness for fic where Jack and Ianto are being observed - by accident - by one of the other characters (hopefully Gwen) and learns something positive and new about their relationship. Something nice but not mushy or sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Owen Sees

**Author's Note:**

> So... I was a bit inspired. This is going to be a series! I'm planning on writing similar moments for both Tosh and Gwen, but the Owen one came to me first. So thank you so much for the prompt, I'm having a ton of fun with it.

 

He’d been certain, for quite a long time, that all Jack and Ianto were to each other was convenient sex. Ianto could preach about being ‘needed’ all he liked, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Jack had buggered off for four months without sparing a thought for the bloke.

Since Jack had returned things had been a bit different between the pair of them, but they still kept most of their relationship hidden from the team. Little glances, touches that could be passed off as accidental, and Jack’s incessant employment of innuendo were the only outward signs that they were even anything more than friends (although the last, admittedly, Jack did with everyone).

That was, until Owen was elbow deep in Weevil gut (this one had swallowed something very unidentifiable that Jack insisted needed to be identified regardless), with Ianto assisting.

He had just managed to find the last of the _whatever_ he was excavating from the thing. He was about to ask Ianto to hand over the bloodstained collection bin, when Jack came barreling toward the autopsy bay railing.

“Ianto!”

“Yes?”

“We just got a call in, I’m going with Tosh to take care of it. Helen’s calling in a half hour. I need you to check on Janet’s spray resistance results, and intercept some information going into the police database for yesterday’s victim. And, if you get the chance, Knight B3.

“Very good, sir.”

“Thanks.”

A whirl of blue wool and bravado retreated back up the stairs.

“What was that last thing?” Owen asked Ianto curiously.

Ianto smirked. “A bad move.”

Owen shook his head, then motioned for the tupperware.

\---

He went down to the archives later that night, hoping to snag a file off of Ianto’s desk, and heard the low mumble of voices as he approached the workspace.

“Damn.”

“Something troubling you?”

“Oh shut up, you know you’re winning.”

“Handily.”

Owen peeked around the shelves, and saw Ianto and Jack sitting around the desk. Jack was pouring over a chessboard, brow furrowed, while Ianto sat back in his chair with a smug grin lighting his face.

“All that boasting you did about the thousands of games you’ve played…” Ianto continued.

“Alright, alright. Maybe I laid it on a little thick,” Jack replied. “But you weren’t exactly humble about your skills either, mister.”

“Yes, well, at least I wasn’t lying.”

Owen didn’t know how to process this good-natured bickering into his world view, and so instead cast his eyes to the ground. He caught sight of Ianto’s sock clad feet, resting on top of Jack’s bare ones. Ianto prodded Jack’s ankle with his toe in an innocent _(silly)_ gesture, and Jack made an indignant noise.

“I wasn’t either!”

“So you’re just ‘letting me win’? For the third time in a row?”

“Exactly. I like making you feel good about yourself.”

“You’re too kind.”

Jack’s braces were off of his shoulders, his coat hanging from the back of his chair. Ianto had shorn his suit jacket and tie. In terms of how they normally appeared, at the moment they were the picture of relaxed domesticity.

But they didn’t _do_ this. Owen knew they didn’t.

Jack sighed dramatically, pushing a black bishop forward a few squares to capture a white pawn. “The things I do for you.”

Ianto moved another pawn. “They’re much appreciated. Checkmate.”

_“Checkmate.”_

_“Katie, why do you always insist on chess? You know I’m rubbish at it.”_

_She laughed, and there was another reminder of why he’d fallen in love with her. “Because I like winning.”_

He swallowed and stepped away from the shelf. Jack’s low chuckle broke the memory’s hold over him, and he made his way quietly out of the archives.

_“It’s not like that. Me and Jack.”_

Him and Jack. Ianto hadn’t lied, and Owen hadn’t listened. He reflected that love wasn’t the only thing that made people blind.

Apparently, so did loss.


End file.
